We have returned from our latest trip to Calais. It got off to a bad start, tunnel closed because migrants 'stormed' the tunnel (hurrah!), punctured tyre on Eurostar. At least this gave us the chance to speak to a French Moroccan Eurostar team manager, sympathetic to people in the camp, who has said he is coming in with us next time.
We started the day with l'auberge de migrants at the distribution warehouse, which is a logistical nightmare. We repacked donations into vans of one type of item, van full of tents, van full of blankets, another van of men's jackets et al.
This feels like chaos, unpacking and packing again as more & more vans arrive. It's only half way through that you realise there is most definitely a system. And whilst it seems to take up a lot of time at the warehouse, it actually makes distribution in the camp easy, calm & fair.
We then headed off to the camp in a convoy of vans ready to distribute. Even though I have been to the camp before, as we drive right into the camp the feelings of shock and shame are still overwhelming. Overwhelming because we are allowing people to live like this and our govts are doing nothing. It takes me a while to adjust as I feel so ashamed that I can't look people there in the face. However the logistics of distributing soon take over and you are thrown into action quickly. Because it's well organised and we are working in a large group everything remains calm. Some of us have the chance to walk along the line talking to people. Osman and his friends from Sudan show me their scars from the dogs the police set on them. He does a funny 'Tom and Jerry' style reenactment for us to make us all laugh but I'm conscious that I can't even begin to imagine how frightening it must have been. Their flesh is badly ripped on their legs and torsos by the dogs.
Once we finish distribution we head over to the 'caravan of love' to be guided to the building projects to help. Shelter is much needed especially with the winter coming soon. It takes us a while to get there because there are so many people wanting to share their stories, tents & tea with us. Everywhere people come up and shake your hand and offer you to come for a sit down with them.
We reach the field where the caravan and builders are. So many people are arriving every day and there are many Kurdish families just arrived with small children. I hear the sound of Kurdish music playing so I go to investigate. The Kurdish men are dancing and I greet them and join in the dancing with them. Some of the other volunteers also join in the dancing and the men are amused and delighted. Imagine my surprise when on my return to the UK some of my friends in Kurdistan send me a link to a Kurdish news channel showing us dancing in the camp! There is also a football match happening and it brings a smile to my face to see the Kurds even in these most difficult of circumstances doing two of their favourite things, dancing and football.
We quickly get on with some work and the rest of our days there are spent helping with the building project. It's amazing to see a whole 'street' go up and to see families move into shelters created with wood, pallets and tarpaulin. There is even a 'housing waiting list' with those most in need given the highest priority. Families with small children are usually at the top of the list and there is even flexibility to be able to do adaptations to assist those with extra needs. A shelter is built with a separate private washing area for a man with his disabled son. They are from Syria, his wife got killed in the bombing there.
In between building I chat to the Kurdish families that are newly arrived. I take some of the men to the other side of the camp to show them where the medical tent is so that they can take others to seek help if they need it. I talk to them about why they want to come to England. They want to come because they can speak English and some of them have family here. One man who arrived two days before tells me he has an Uncle in England, in a 'place called Plymouth'. I told him I was from Plymouth and asked his Uncle's name. He told me his name and I couldn't believe that it was someone I knew. We phoned his Uncle together from the camp. His Uncle was even more surprised than I was.
Whilst we were assisting with the building it gave us chance to meet some other volunteers. The volunteers were of all different nationalities and ages. One man was from Iraq who had lived in London for 15 years and wanted to help. A Kurdish family from the UK who had also once been in this situation many years before had also come over to help. The man from Iraq told me:
'Sir Cameron, Sir Hollande and the rulers around the world sit in their chateaus & sip their wine and the people are paying. This is the life.'
It was amazing how quickly the volunteers erected houses. However more volunteers, wood and tools are needed badly and this will be what I will be concentrating my efforts on in the immediate future. I have already planned the next trip talking pallets with Darren Johns.
It was difficult to leave this time. I wanted to stay there and continue helping with the building but too soon it was time to go. We said our goodbyes to people whom we had very quickly become attached to, both inhabitants of the camp and volunteers. We promised we would be back soon. As we headed to the tunnel we passed those from the camp making the evening trip to try and get on to the lorries. I prayed inside that they would stay safe, that they wouldn't end up like so many we had seen at the camp, with broken, swollen limbs on crutches. I desperately hoped that Mercy who had cooked for all the builders and kept us fed and watered, would find some mercy.
On my return home I noticed I kept smelling burning. I kept sniffing my skin to see if it was me smelling from the burning rubbish at the camp, even though I had showered, as it was the same smell. I realised that the smell had permeated my nostrils and no washing or blowing my nose could remove it. It went after a couple of days. It is symbolic of how much the camp gets inside you. The difference for us is that we can walk away anytime whilst others are forced to call this their 'refuge' and for that we should ask, where is the humanity? These people are suffering and need our help. They are not dangerous, they are in danger.